My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 221: Left gone Right

Chapter 221: Left gone Right

Beside her, a girl with a gem embedded in her arm knelt—hands glowing.

The stone in her skin shimmered emerald, its light ebbing in time with Kaelithar’s breathing. Lines of spirit energy flowed from the gem into the woman’s abdomen, carefully measured pulses designed to dull the pain without disturbing the spiritual pathways forming in the child.

"Madam Kaelithar," the girl said softly, her voice even despite the chaos in the room, "you’re doing fine. Please breathe... deep, now—yes, like that." the green gem on her arm humming softly, its spirit energy flowing into the woman, easing the pain with each pulse.

The woman, Lady Seraphine Kaelithar, matriarch of House Kaelithar—one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Kenosha Shibuya—gritted her teeth, her auburn hair slicked to her brow, strands clinging to her temples as sweat poured freely down her face.

The scarf she wore had slipped down past one ear, revealing the faint scar that cut across her right temple—a jagged remnant from a border skirmish years ago, one she’d walked away from while others hadn’t.

Her green eyes, dulled with fatigue but still burning with resolve, locked on the wooden beams above, searching for something solid as another contraction crashed through her.

"I’m trying, Lira!" she snapped, breath hitching, fingers clenching hard enough to leave bruises. Her nails dug into the maiden’s forearm, drawing tiny beads of blood that shimmered against the light of the pulsing green gem embedded in Lira’s skin. That gem glowed in rhythmic pulses, each one pushing out waves of calming energy, though they faltered slightly now—strained, like the woman wielding them.

The room vibrated faintly with the tension between pain and power. Wooden walls, centuries old and inscribed with House Kaelithar’s protective runes, seemed to groan under the pressure. Those carvings—gently glowing—interacted with the spirit energy thick in the air, forming faint veils of light that crackled faintly at the edges, just enough to keep stray interference at bay. The warded oil lamps flickered, casting shifting shadows across the birthing bed.

Lira leaned in close, wiping Seraphine’s brow with a damp cloth, her voice even but not cold. "You’re nearly there, my Lady. I can feel the movement. One more surge." Her words didn’t float—they pressed. Firm. Controlled. Her own face was calm, but her gem pulsed faster now, the strain clearly transferring through her arm.

And then, the door creaked open.

A single step echoed—then another. The scent of blood and soil followed the figure in, mingling with the birth-scented air like a stormfront cutting across a field. He was tall—thick-limbed, broad-chested—with tousled blonde hair streaked dark with sweat and blood, a single braid tucked behind his left ear in the fashion of the old frontier. His jaw was tight, beard scruffed from days without trimming. Over his shoulder, a monster’s face hung limp—something between a wild boar and a rockhound, its tusks broken clean at the root, the body clearly crushed by brutal force.

The runes on his armor glimmered faintly—enough to hint the kill had cost him. His twin-moon crest was crusted with dried blood, though the leather beneath was unscratched. He tossed the beast’s head to the side of the room without ceremony. The thing hit the wall with a wet crunch and rolled once, trailing viscera, before coming to a rest beside a stack of firewood.

His eyes—green, just like Seraphine’s—immediately found her.

"I came as fast as I could. Ran into a wildthorn boar in the east field," he said, voice booming. "And look at you—already halfway through it. That’s my girl." He strode forward, knelt at her side, and took her hand into his calloused grip. "The damn thing nearly gored me. I told them the migration was early this year."

Seraphine let out a strangled half-laugh, half-groan, then gasped through clenched teeth as another contraction hit. Her body tensed, trembled. The green glow surged again.he boomed, voice deep and brash, the boar’s carcass swinging at his side as he stepped into the birthing chamber, blood trailing behind him in dark arcs. The crimson dripped steadily now, collecting in slow puddles that spread across the polished stone floor, the scent of iron sharp in the lavender-thick air. "How are we doing, dear?"

Seraphine’s head snapped toward him like a blade unsheathed, her green eyes alight with a feral rage that cut deeper than any sword. The scarf slipped halfway from her head, revealing the long scar across her temple, a memory of some old battlefield—one that had clearly not prepared her for this. The green glow around her surged, runes on the chamber walls flickering as if reacting to her voice.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND HOLD MY FUCKING HAND, YOU STUPID FUCKING IDIOT!"

The scream tore through the air like a cannon blast. Lira flinched, but didn’t falter, the skin beneath Seraphine’s nails already turning pale under the pressure. The emerald gem in her arm pulsed again, flooding another wave of calming spirit energy into the laboring matriarch’s body, the pulse matched by a low hum rising from the carved runes behind them.

Gavric blinked. The grin faltered—but didn’t break. He looked at the boar in his hand. Then at his wife.

Then dropped the carcass with a heavy thwump, the creature’s ruined skull cracking the tiles beneath it as blood splattered across his boots and the base of the warding pillar beside them.

"Oh... we’re that close already!?" he said, eyes wide with mock innocence, voice still soaked in that same casual awe. He moved fast for a man his size, stepping forward without hesitation, one massive hand outstretched, the other adjusting his sword against his back as if it were just another tool.

The leather of his armor creaked with each movement. His green eyes never left hers, even as a rune at his hip blinked once—then settled. His hand clasped hers.

"Squeeze it ’til it breaks, love. You earned it."

Seraphine’s hand shot out as Gavric drew near, her fingers locking around his with a ferocity that seemed to defy every scream she’d already loosed.